So. We were given a vague date about when Soldier Son would get home on leave from Iraq. He was supposed to leave around July 1, so we took that to mean he would definitely be home for the Fourth of July. Of course, the family wants to see him, so I planned to have a holiday barbecue here and kill two birds with one stone. Well, I finally (after days) caught Soldier Son online today, and he will be held up in limbo at least until tomorrow.
Meanwhile, I offered to make a fruit salad for this picnic that my oldest son won’t be here for. I’ve just spent a good hour and a half cutting up freaking fruit, and the stickiness is on me and the kitchen counters. I like fruit, but it’s not worth the pain in the ass it is to cut it up to eat. Tonight, I’ll be putting chicken pieces on skewers and no doubt stabbing my fingers in the process. Something else miserable to look forward to.
But by far, the biggest pain in the ass is the very real literal pain in my ass. Youngest Son served as my weight trainer yesterday and he showed no mercy toward his 50 year old mother. I had run earlier in the day, but I’ve resigned myself to believing all the literature out there that says you must mix in some weight training along with your cardio to get rid of that ugly rounded middle-aged shape. And now today it feels like a mule kicked each ass cheek. And yesterday, I had to actually sit on my butt to go down the stairs. It hurts to go up the steps, but it’s almost impossible to go down. And my guys inform me that it will be even worse tomorrow. Just in time for the guests. I’ll be the hostess with the mostest.
I’ve definitely had days like that, what with the sore cheeks and whatnot. Try a 12 mile, 60 pound hilly ruckmarch 😉
Awww. Poor baby. For at least the next two weeks, no marches for you. Just good American eats and sleep!!